Finding My Tempo

I ride my bike. Days go by, occasionally weeks, without sitting in a car. Finding myself as a passenger in a automobile after these long stretches, I see my world zip by.

Overwhelmed at 30 mph.

At this residential speed, I experience my surroundings in flight. What do those at twice this speed sense? Freeway frequenters: desensitized to their quick passing of the world outside. Not knowing what it really is that's going on out there. Who's going on out there.

Alright, let me bring that beat down. Give me some slow, funky, soul moving R&B.

I'm back on my bike.

I ride a speedy bike. Cannondale cyclocross: streamlined, skinny tires, light frame with touches of carbon fiber. I zip along the outside lanes pulling past traffic, parked cars, hipster cruisers, janky mountain bikes.

Sometimes I desire the slower pace. I ditch the bike and opt for just me. My feet bring me down the sidewalk at a city girl pace. I mean business. Things are waiting for me to get to. But along the way, I'm now moving slow enough to take in the chirping birds, wafts of spring blossoms, requests for change.

My walk - the pace of that music that's classical - brisk yet thought provoking.

But let's take a moment to talk about my Sunday pace, a sunny afternoon pace, a yes I have places to go but I'll enjoy my time getting there kind of pace. This is set to the laid back island paces known as reggae and dub. No, not that frantic raggaeton. Rather, that pre-modernized pace, the in the groove of the present.

Moving to the tempos...moving through life's tempos. Setting my own, slower than moderno tempo.